


The World Doesn't Know the Meaning of the Word Stop

by hit_the_books



Series: Blood and Gold [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you haven't read <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3612372/chapters/7971795">Nestled in Silver </a>first, go do that. Please.</p><p>You're an alchemist, perhaps one of the most gifted of this age. Having met the Winchesters on a job tackling dragons, you left soon after.</p><p>Set straight after the events of Nestled in Silver, Y/N discovers what Crowley is up to and hopes that she hasn't made a deal that she's going to regret.</p><p>This part is a lot more serious in tone than Nestled in Silver. The "rape" here is not extremely explicit, but the references to it could be a trigger for some readers, so please use your own discretion. The chapter where it "happens" has a warning at the beginning.</p><p>Expect liberal use and references to certain mythical items and processes.</p><p>This fic takes place around season nine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just sign on the dotted line

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my first ever fanfic. Still getting use to all of this.
> 
> If you have any requests, check [Dreams from the Bunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).

"I don't suppose," a gravelly, voice calls from behind you, "that you'd be interested in joining me in a business proposition. See I'm in need of some means to fund a particular purchase and I hear that you have ways and means."

Whipping round, you look at the 'man' that stands before you and wonder first and foremost: who is his tailor? The alleyway you both stand is in complete contrast with the figure's finely tailored attire. You shift your weight, the scent of sulphur clogging your nostrils.

'Sulphur, sulphur, sulphur...' You think to yourself, knowing that the figure is awaiting your response. Then it dawns on you: you're in the presence of a demon. You feel yourself begin to panic, unsure if you've prepared anything in your chest of tricks to help you deal with this.

You calm yourself and reply, "You want to make a deal?"

The demon considers you and then reaches out his right hand to shake your own. You step forward and grasp his right hand and shake it.

"Crowley," the demon says, smiling.

"Y/N," you respond. There's nothing off about his grip. On about the third shake, Crowley pulls you close and inhales your scents. Your adrenaline begins to pump, you try not to shake.

"Moose?" Crowley half-whispers.

"Excuse me?"

Crowley steps away from you, gently letting your hand go. "Dear, have you been in the company of the Winchesters?"

You see no point in lying. "I worked a case with them before coming back here."

Nodding to himself, Crowley appears to no longer want to discuss the matter. You move over to your bike and fondle the straps holding your chest to your green Kawasaki. You wait for the demon to continue the conversation, wary of what it is that he might ask you for. You know you have no protection on you to stop him from taking what he may want. Your heart begins to mimic your fears and as it beats harder you wonder if it's possible to outrun a demon. Again, you try to calm yourself, but it is proving difficult.

"I need you," Crowley says suddenly, "to help me purchase a particular item. And I hasten to add that I can work on far more favourable terms than, say, a pair of dragons."

You stop messing with the straps on the chest and give Crowley your full attention. "You need gold?"

"A lot."

Words from your late grandfather surface from your memory. He had said that demons were tricky customers and that you had to be careful when dealing with them, but he'd admitted not having to sell to many over the years. A part of you wishes that you hadn't run out on Sam and Dean, at least not before finding out a bit more about this world that you were only just coming into. Names and descriptions from books and scrolls were quickly becoming real things that wanted to kill you.

Breathing in deeply to try and calm yourself down, you decide to give Crowley your terms. "I'll help you make the gold you need, but I'm going to need a few things in return."

Crowley smiles. "Now we're talking."

You're about to say more, when you notice a thin sheen of sweat upon Crowley's brow. For the first time, you allow yourself to see beyond the suave image Crowley is trying to cultivate for himself. You aren't sure, but - you try to inhale his scent beyond the stink of sulphur -  you definitely don't think he's well. Trying to not let this worry you too much, you decide to set down your terms.

"Okay, one: I'm going to drive back to my store so that I can pick up some supplies, maybe a few other things in town. It's a couple of states over, but I'm not leaving my bike again."

"Fine with me."

"Two: I need you to find somewhere big and isolated, a warehouse or somewhere like it, and put as much iron there as you need gold."

"Of course."

"Three: Once I'm ready, and it shouldn't be too long after I get back home, send me directions and I'll head out to where we'll be... working."

"Sure."

"Four: Once you've got all the gold you need for this one transaction, yourself and any associates who may be in on this job let me walk out of that warehouse completely unharmed, with no further obligations."

"Done... But," you wonder what else Crowley would want to add, "don't you want me to help you, how should I put this, put down the creature that killed your grandfather?"

Your breath catches in your chest for a moment. You fight tears and you hold the memories back. Hold them back.

"It was a werewolf, wasn't it?" Crowley continues, choosing to ignore your pain.

You nod in reply.

"I know where he is."

Revenge. Crowley is offering you revenge. A revenge you had dreamed about so many times. A revenge you had planned out to each excruciating detail. Until you had begun to wonder, begun to dream a different dream: one where you cured the thing, the beast, the creature... the man that had killed your grandfather. Killed your grandfather when your grandfather was unable to cure the lycanthropy that had infected him. Revenge was a simpler path in some ways, but...

"I could kill it for you... No offence, love, but you don't strike me as the kind of lady who's use to slashing, stabbing and generally causing pain."

"No. Thank you," you respond to Crowley's offer. "Just tell me where he is, after you've your gold, and we'll the rest of the terms I said."

Crowley regarded you with a fleeting curiosity before saying, "Suit yourself. My number is on your phone."

You blink. He's gone.


	2. Cold shoulder

Coming to, Sam got up and looked around for signs of Y/N. But her chest was gone. All that was left was the faint smell of her upon his clothes, his face, his hands. The air smelt slightly of rose and lavender. He felt a tug at his heart. He didn't understand why she'd left him, why she'd just run off like that. But there was no other sign of her by the incident table.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

"She's gone, Dean."

Sam looked at Dean, Dean seemed more confused than Sam. His eyes wondering around the place suspiciously.

"H-how did we end up back here?" Dean asked.

"You don't remember?"

Dean stood up from his seat and started pacing, putting his hands through his hair and rubbing his face. "The last thing I remember is trying to wipe that stuff off, y'know, the powder that'd come out of Y/N's chest, looking over at the Impala, seeing Y/N and then... nothing."

"Huh," Sam said. He remembered everything. "You really don't remember anything with the dragons?"

"Nope... Sorry to talk business: but have we handled that?"

"Yes, it's been handled." Sam started walking away from the incident table, heading towards his bedroom. He was starting to wonder if he had dreamed everything. He reached his room and opened the door and stared in. Dean approached from behind and looked around Sam.

"Ho, did you and Y/N?" Dean said, a note of pride in his voice. There was no denying the evidence: the bed was a mess and there were... patches. Sam put his hands through his hair and struggled to think of a reason why Y/N would suddenly just get up and leave after all that had happened, all that they had shared. He knew he came on a bit strong a few times, but no note? No, nothing?

Sam rounded on Dean, pointing a finger in his brother's chest. "You told me, when we were heading into the tunnels to handle those dragons, that you wanted to have a little celebration with Y/N, once it was all over. I said no, and then you said..."

"'We'll see who gets there first.'" Dean looked at Sam, surprise in his eyes. "I can remember, but it feels like some kind of hazy dream."

Jogging from his bedroom, Sam headed in the direction of the garage. Dean close at his heels.

"Look, why does it matter, Sam? Why does Y/N leaving matter? She's her own person," Dean called after Sam.

They reached the garage. One of the bikes was missing. Sam kicked an oil can over in frustration. He felt a deep pang, in his heart. He thought they had had something. 'I think I love her,' he thought to himself. He'd found himself falling for her the moment she tried to show them the stone, the sun glinting in her hair, with the stone getting all caught up in her clothes, the awkward flash. And the way she looked when she was asleep in the Impala, her hair trying to escape... And how he'd silently prayed that she wouldn't die on the way to the hospital. His relief when she finally woke up after surgery.

"It matters, Dean," Sam said calmly, his voice low, almost a growl. After being denied so much, after the shit he'd been put through in recent months... Y/N had been the first ray of sunshine in his life for a long time. Being around her didn't make him feel normal, it just made him feel like there was more to the world than fallen angels, demons high on power and monsters under every floorboard.

"It's just, y'know-"

Sam glared at Dean, before stalking off towards the incident room, where he'd last left his laptop and his cell. They'd already activated the GPS on her phone, that's how they found her the first time, but he was going to try calling her first. Reaching the immense table in the main room, he picked up his cell and scrolled through his contacts until he found the entry for Y/N. He pressed dial.

Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh. Dnnnnnnnnh.

"Hey, this is, Y/N-" Sam hung up. The phone was ringing, but no one was answering, bar the voice mail.

Pulling his laptop out of its satchel, he started booting it up, hoping that he'd get lucky twice. Dean walked in, a large, old, leather bound book open in his arms. Sam didn't acknowledge him.

"Hey, listen to this, I think I know what that white powder was: 'dessicated cherub feather can-' sorry my Latin isn't as good as yours, err, 'can be used in philtres either for arousing love or as a general aphrodisiac. By itself, the compound can have varying effects, depending on the amount given...' Sam I think we accidentally dosed ourselves." Dean put the tome on top of the table.

Sam was now typing into his computer. He continued to ignore Dean. But he did take in what his brother had said, 'Maybe,' Sam thought to himself, 'Y/N realised that we'd been dosed and believed that I didn't really love her.' Sam grimaced at the thought, realising that was what had probably happened.

"Sam, it was a love potion."

Sam stopped typing and looked up at Dean. Dean's face wore a cheeky grin, like he was expecting to be given thanks for saving the two of them from yet another mess. Sam now knew where Y/N was probably heading to, but she had a heck of a head start, and Sam realised that she must have dosed them with a higher dose of the knockout powder. He looked down at this laptop screen once more, then up at Dean and then away. He started shutting down his laptop.

"Sam?"

Putting the laptop back in his satchel, Sam finally looked at Dean again. Anger growing on his face. He swallowed, trying to restrain himself, but Sam was finding it hard.

"Dean, the first moment I laid eyes on her, I was, I was... I haven't felt that way, that deeply, in a long time. So, maybe for you, you were feeling the effects of this cherub feather. Me? I wasn't.

"Now," Sam continued, "either you're coming with me, or I am going after Y/N by myself. I don't care either way," Sam finished and collected his things before heading towards the garage.

He was just deciding on which car to take, when Dean stalked in after him, bag on his shoulder.

"Here," Dean called. Sam looked to his brother as Dean through the Impala's keys to him. Sam caught the keys to the Impala. "You drive, you seem to know where we're going."


	3. The little details

During the ride back to your home town, you stop here and there, take care of yourself, and then move on. It takes a few days. As the open road sprawls in front of you, your thoughts stray to the moments that led you here. The promises of knowledge and purpose that your grandfather made. The trials and tribulations you faced to gain the title of alchemist and the joy this brought your grandfather. The sudden and painful loss when your grandfather was murdered. Throwing yourself into creating the true goal of alchemy, pursuing magnum opus - the great work - and creating your own Philosopher's Stone. And...

All the time lost. The relationships that ended. The loves not pursued. The experiences not yet lived.

You crest a hill and there you see it in the dawn light, laid out in the river valley below. Home. The town wasn't awake yet.

You drive down, familiar streets passing you by, you wind your way through. It doesn't take you long and before you know it, you're pulling up at the old shop. Nothing has changed since you left it more than two weeks ago. The shutters are still closed, everything locked up. You gently angle the bike into a side alley and park up. Pulling off your helmet, you breathe in the crisp morning air.

Grabbing the chest from the bike, you fish for your keys and head for the rear entrance. Again, nothing looks disturbed as you step up the rear stairs and then push the key into the lock. The door opens and you step inside, balancing the helmet and the chest as you quickly enter in the code to the store's security system. Lights go green and you make your way deeper into the building, your eyes fine with the gloom, your nose letting you know where to go. Reaching the back work room and study, you ease your way over to a desk and put your helmet and chest down.

Flicking on a lamp, you start staring up at the shelves that hold all of your grandfather's books until you find the one you need. Standing on a stall, you reach up and pull down the Key of Solomon and then carry it over to the desk. You flip through its ageing pages, looking for something to give yourself an edge. Your eyes fall upon what appears to be a diagram of a Devil's Trap. 'That could be useful,' you think to yourself, 'but what I really need is to something to stop me from being possessed...'

You put the heavy tome down, and get back to rooting among the shelves in the study. A few places along from where you found the Key of Solomon, you spot its cousin, the Magical Treatise of Solomon. Taking the book off the shelf, you set it down on the shelf and begin flicking through its pages, trying to block out its musty smell. Finally you see it, all flames and a pentagram in a protective stance. The Latin around the diagram suggests wearing the symbol can protect the wearer from possession by demons.

"Wearing..." you mutter to yourself, "I've always wanted a tattoo." But you knew you'd need to take specials measures for it to work.

*

Washed and changed into fresh clothes - khakis, a v-neck top, baggy hoody and boots - you tuck your necklace away and head to your chest. Taking the chest into the store room, you stroke its intricate carvings and open it. Placing it down on a work surface, you begin to look around the shelves, peering at jars, pots and boxes. Looking for supplies to refresh your chest. Carrying a jar of lead shavings, a vial of Djinn blood and a bag of dried lavender petals, you begin to refresh the contents of your chest, before heading back to the shelves. Then you realise where you're standing and you look at the shelf, at the squat, stoppered jar, filled with a fine white powder.

The scrawling handwriting of your grandfather reads "Powdered Cherub Feathers". You look back at your chest. The completionist in you wants to resupply the chest with this tricky substance, but the ache in your heart says no. You continue past the concentrated Cupid, and pull down a glass bottle of distilled water from another shelf. This one item isn't something you need more of in your chest. Instead you walk back to the work bench, and place the bottle down, but you don't let go.

You'd only done this once before, but you knew the drill. Closing your eyes, you calm your mind and then you channel it. It - the stone. You open your eyes and look down at the bottle, filled with Elixir of Life.

Satisfied, you pick up the bottle and pack it in your chest. Quickly, you tidy the work bench. You rush back into the study and get the cash box out of the desk. Unlocking it, you pull out a roll of bills and pocket them. Even though you don't need to move with haste, you're beginning to feel the weight of Crowley's deal weigh down on you, but you can't do it yet. You need to be sure sure first, need to be safe.

*

You'd only ever walked past the parlour before, but now you were the owner's first customer of the day. You pull out a slip of paper with the pentagram design on it and push open the door.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrng!

The owner looks up from his counter and gives you a smile. His skin is covered almost all over in some of the most intricate ink work you have ever seen. He seems squeezed into the shirt he wears.

"My first customer of the day," the owner drawls. His voice is thick and you can feel his eyes checking out every inch of you.

"Hey," you say, walking up to the counter, "I was wondering if I could get this," you put the design down, "tattooed here." You hold your left hand just above your heart.

"Sure," the owner replies, "I can do that."

"But," you add, pulling the bottle of Elixir from your a pocket in your khakis, "I need you to mix the ink with this." You place the bottle on the counter.

The owner looks between the bottle and you, frowning. "I don't normally-"

A flash of bills in front of his eyes cuts the owner off.

"Of course I can mix the ink with this, sure," he answers.

Moments later, your top his off and you're sat backwards in one of the parlour's chairs, gripping onto the back, trying to concentrate on the feeling of the smooth leather of the chair against your skin. The needle buzzes as the ink and Elixir are fixed into your skin, a slight glow emanating from the ink's blackness. You grit your teeth and force yourself not to cry out from the pain.

It takes an hour before the owner is finished inking you. Your skin feels raw where the needle did its work and the owner is about to give you a dressing before you stop him. The pain and rawness is quickly disappearing, and you both look at the tattoo, as it slowly turns to looking like you've had it for months rather than minutes. Looking at it in a certain angle, you can see a hint of orange to the blackness of the ink.

"You've got to give me of that stuff you made me mix in," the owner says as you hop down from the chair and start pulling your top back on.

"Maybe some other time," you lie. You begin walking to the front of the parlour.

"Yo," the owner calls after you, "I thought you looked familiar: are you the owner of that, um, magic store on sixth?"

You stop by the front door and look back at the owner. "Yes." You walk out the door.

"Weren't you in an accident the other week?" You hear the owner call out after you as you start off down the street.

*

There's not much for it now. Chest strapped back onto your bike, you look at your phone. Your heart stops in your chest for the briefest moment, as you see that you have a missed call from Sam, but you shake your head and clear the alert. Scanning through your contacts you find Crowley's number, listed under the name "666".

"Cute," you mutter to yourself as you hit dial.

"Y/N, I was worried you weren't going to call," Crowley says, his voice with a hint of urgency about it.


	4. Asphalt

The gas station was quiet. They were several counties away from getting to Y/N, having driven west for more than eighteen hours, but they needed gas. Sam had checked where Y/N was each time they'd stopped for gas, and she was still in her home town area. This time was no different, though she'd moved into an area on the west side of town. Sam looked over at Dean, paying inside. Sam wanted to get moving, but he needed Dean to drive: Sam knew he was dangerously close to crashing and needed to get some sleep. They had a few more hours driving ahead of them.

"Finally," Sam growled as Dean walked back towards the car, a bag of junk food and soda in tow.

"Just get in the car and I'll drive," Dean ordered, a pang of guilt in his voice. He passed Sam the bag of supplies and Sam walked round to the passenger seat.

Hitting the road road again a few moments later, Sam settled back into his seat. Asphalt stretched for miles and miles ahead of them and the sun was beating down. Sam wound down his window to let some air in. His hair streaming in the fast breeze.

"Pass me one of those cans would you?" Dean asked.

Sam reached into the bag and pulled a soda out, pulling the ring for Dean and passing it over. He looked into the bag to see if anything could tempt him, but he felt too anxious to eat. He settled deeply into the seat and closed his eyes.

"Sam?" Dean called over, his tone indicating that he wasn't sure if Sam was asleep yet.

"What?" Sam replied, keeping his eyes closed.

"What are you going to do when we find her?"

Sam didn't reply straight away. He sat thoughtfully, his eyes still closed. Finally, he answered: "I'm going to tell her how I feel. It's all I can do."

"Okay." Dean didn't say anything else. Sam began to drift off to sleep.

But no sweet dreams found him. No comforting rest. Instead he saw the moment that the dragon had ripped a hole into Y/N, in an attempt to kill her. And he saw it again and again. Sometimes the nightmare shifted to the journey afterwards, when they were trying desperately to get Y/N to the nearest hospital. Sam couldn't wake up, his fatigue allowing the nightmare to take hold.

*

"SAM!" Dean yelled in Sam's ears. Sam woke with a start. Looking around the car, confused, taking a moment to get his bearings, he saw they were parked outside of a disused warehouse. "We're here," Dean said, offering no apology for deafening Sam.

Without replying, Sam opened his door and got out of the Impala. He stretched his legs and looked at the rusting, corrugated iron that covered the roof and the smashed windows just below it. The place hadn't been used in years. And the feeling of anxiety that had gripped him before he'd tried to sleep, just intensified further. The place felt off.

"Why would she have come to a place like this?" Sam wondered out loud.

"I dunno, Sam," Dean said, standing beside his brother, "who knows what alchemists do in their free time."

Sam shot Dean a glare and started walking towards the warehouse. "Woah there!" Dean yelled and grabbed Sam's right shoulder. Sam stopped walking.

"Let's not go in there half-cocked, okay?" Dean said, as he pulled Sam towards the rear of the Impala and popped the trunk. Taking an interest, Sam pulled out a 9mm and checked it was loaded. Satisfied, he started towards the warehouse again. He ignored the sounds of Dean rushing to tool himself up and catch up to his long strides.

Reaching a side door, Sam was ready to pull out his lock picking tools when he saw that the rusting mass was already open. Taking the safety off of the 9mm, he shouldered the door open and went in gun first. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the low light. Nothing looked abnormal, for a disused warehouse. But as he stared deeper into the immense space, something glinted from the centre. And it was huge.

"Fuck," Dean said under his breath as he caught up with Sam. They both walked towards the mound of gold ingots. Not far behind it was Y/N's bike on its stand. Her chest was still strapped to it, her helmet discarded beside it.

"She doesn't go anywhere without her chest," Sam stated.

"Hey, do you smell that?" Dean bent down near the mixed ingots, and came away, Sam saw the sulphur on his fingers.

His breathing intensified, Sam noticed that Y/N's cell lay discarded beside her bike. They had no idea when she'd left. Only that a demon was probably involved. Sam refused to panic. They had to call him.

Dean was one step ahead of Sam and already had his cell out, dialling Crowley. Not that Sam expected much. They hadn't been able to reach him for several weeks.

"Oh, hey, Crowley," Dean said. Sam looked at Dean, surprised, Dean's eyes were wide open - he was equally amazed that Crowley had picked up.

"Yeah, yeah, you wouldn't happen to know where - wait, what?"

Sam looked at Dean, mouthing at him to get to the point. Dean waved his gun hand at Sam, telling him to shut-up.

"Where?" Dean asked. Then there was a banging noise from the far side of the warehouse. The pair of them looked around and saw a metal storage shed off at the opposite end to where they'd entered. They jogged over to it, as the banging continued.

Putting his phone away, Dean raised his 9mm and covered Sam while he opened the door to the shed.

Tied in iron chains with Devil's Traps all over them, laid out on the ground, was Crowley. Crowley stared up at Sam and Dean, looking pleased to see them.

"A little help, please?"


	5. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moments of non-consensual touching and more happen in this chapter.

Wheeling your bike into the warehouse, you'd been impressed with the pile of iron ingots that Crowley had amassed. Sure it was going to mean forming a lot of gold, but you had time. You had time in spades.

"Smart girl," Crowley's gravelly voice had sounded from behind you. Facing Crowley, you found him starring at the few segments of your new tattoo that were visible from the v-neck of your top.

"No offence, but I still don't trust you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, are we ready to begin?"

That had been, by your estimate, four hours ago. Right now, you were tied to a wooden chair, waiting for someone or something to come. The demon that had trussed you up, after subduing Crowley, was currently out of the room. It was wandering around in the body of some hot young guy, but you didn't really care for him, on account of being dragged to wherever it was. All you knew was that you were no longer in the warehouse, and were inside some old rotting house.

You try not to punish yourself with thoughts about why you hadn't bothered learning how to exorcise demons before getting into this mess. But you do wonder why the demon had decided to betray Crowley, not that, as far as you knew, those kinds of actions were abnormal for their kind.

Footsteps creak along the rotting floorboards and you look up at your captor. His eyes are eating you up.

"We've got some time to kill," the demon says, his eyes black. But his tone warns you, warns you of what's on his mind. You try to cringe away from him as he approaches, but it's impossible, bound as you are to the chair, your wrists and arms tied down well.

"Y'know, if we leave now," you say, trying to buy for time, "I could cook us up with some spending money and we could be in Vegas by nightfall. Hit some tables, see some shows. Take copious amounts of drugs."

The demon looks thoughtful for a moment as he approaches you, before kneeling in front of your chair and opening your legs. He breathes in your scents. You try to ignore his. He looks up into your face.

"Tempting as that sounds, and it is very tempting, I think I'd rather stay here," the demon says. He then suddenly plunges his face into your crotch and rubs it up into you. You feel his nose poking against the fabric of your khakis and panties.

Lifting his face away from your crotch, he begins to kiss his way up your body and you squirm in the chair, his tongue catches on the chain briefly, but he ignores it. The demon begins to unbutton his jeans as he moves up you.

Your mind races into overdrive, thinking of what you can do to get out of this. Your feet aren't tied, your head is free...

The demon reaches your face and begins kissing you on the lips and then forces his tongue inside your mouth. You try not to gag and instead tense your jaw and then-

"UGGGGGGGGGGGGHAHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGG!" The demon screams, pulling away, blood pooling in his and your mouths.

You spit the demon's tongue onto the floor boards. With difficulty you stand up, shaking, with the chair still strapped to you. You look around, awkwardly bent over. You see a support wall and decide to run into it backwards, hoping to smash the chair into kindling. You pay no attention to the demon as you ram the wall, backwards.

CRRRCCCCCCkkkkkCKCK!

The chair breaks apart and pain sears through your right arm as you feel it break against the chair and the wall. Fighting through the pain you look up and see the demon staring back at you, eyes murderously black, blood dripping out of its mouth. You struggle to remove your hands from the remains of the chair, but you manage it, your gaze not once leaving the demon. Looking down at your right arm, you grit your teeth and use your left hand to forcibly set the bone back.

CRRRCCCCCCkkkkkCKCK!

That really gets the demon's attention. You're not sure, but you think that perhaps you can see fear in his eyes. You spit some of its blood out onto the floor, as you feel the bones in your arm begin to knit together once more. The demon starts advancing on you, taking a moment to pick up the remains on its tongue. You take that as your sign to start running.

Fleeing into the kitchen of the rotting structure, you start rifling through cupboards, ignoring most of the mouldering remains, as you hear the demon's feet move slowly across the floor boards. You can't figure out what the thing's pace means: is it hurting bad or just savouring the chase? Opening the last cupboard you haven't searched, you find a cannister of table salt.

The steps are getting closer.


	6. Deals

Sam kept look out while Dean worked on freeing Crowley from his iron bonds. He wanted Dean to hurry it up.

"We would know if Abbadon had already found your girl," Crowley said, as he finally got to his feet. "I would have had a social visit by now... But that little turn coat... Well, I can't say he's picked up the finer things in life."

Dean backed away and Sam frowned at Crowley's words. "What are you saying?" Sam asked.

"I'm saying that we better find our new best friend and be quick about it. He wouldn't have taken her far, there was an old watchman's house near here, to the east." Sam blinked and Crowley was gone.

Sam started jogging towards the door they'd come in through. Dean was close behind. Sam was scared, he knew what Crowley had been getting at, and while Sam knew Y/N could recover from a hole through her lung - this was different.

*

The house was near by as Crowley had said. A creaking, rotting mess of a place. Paint peeling, windows missing - Sam coudn't help think the worst, as he and Dean went up its front porch and went inside. Crowley was already waiting for them in the hallway. Drops of blood had splattered his suit and face. Behind him, in the kitchen, Sam could see the feet of a man sticking out from behind the kitchen door frame.

Then Sam heard it. The whimpering. The crying. Crowley stepped aside as Sam and Dean pushed past him and headed into the kitchen, ignoring the body that the other demon had possessed.

The noise was coming from a kitchen store. The door was closed tight. Sam walked up to it, his heart almost breaking as he knocked on it and said, "Y/N? It's me, Sam."

The crying continued.

"Y/N?" Sam called softly.

Finally, it stopped. There was a click and the store room door opened. Sam saw the salt that Y/N had laid down at the threshold, before he looked at Y/N in the face and saw the hurt there. The pain. There were smudges of blood over Y/N's right arm. Tears had mixed with dirt on her face. There was blood around her mouth.

"Sam?" Y/N said quietly.

"It's me," Sam replied, stepping forward. He held his arms out for Y/N and she hesitated, before slowly coming out of the store room, holding onto him as she did.

Sam looked closer at the blood around Y/N's mouth and inhaled slightly, and just below the surface, just in a tiny corner of him, a light sparked ever so faintly and he let go of Y/N.

"Dean, can you take care of Y/N for a minute? I really need some air."

"Uh, sure, Sam," Dean answered as you stalked past him and Crowley and rushed outside.

Getting your bearings, clearing your head, you didn't hear Crowley approach.

"I'm not sure if this is all that sweet, human blood, I've been drinking like fine bottles of Merlot talking, but I'm sorry for what's happened."

Sam said nothing, he just stared out over the desolate industrial landscape, decay as far as the eye could see.

"Moose?" Crowley said, an actual note of concern in his voice.

Sam grimaced, but nodded his appreciation. Crowley went back inside the ruined house. Sam stayed there on the porch, staring off into the distance. Almost as if it was expected of him, he started back towards the warehouse and be useful.

*

"Sam?" Dean was beside the Impala, propping up Y/N, Crowley stood behind them. Sam had driven it back over to the house. On the back seat was Y/N's chest and cell.

"Get Y/N in the car and stay with her," Sam said simply. Dean nodded and moved Y/N to the back.

Sam looked up at Crowley. "You've got what you wanted," Sam stated. "I suggest you take it and leave."

Crowley did't need to be told twice. And was gone.

Once Dean and Y/N were in the back, Sam drove away. He wanted to help get Y/N cleaned up, so he headed back into town, to where Y/N's store was on sixth. The three of them stayed silent. Sam looked in the rear view mirror and saw that Y/N was cuddled up against Dean, and Dean was holding her close, trying to reassure her.

"Is there anyone we can call?" Sam overheard Dean ask Y/N.

*

The store was quiet when they let themselves in. Y/N had reflexively turned off the security and then gone into the kitchen and sat down beside the counter. Sam kept his distance, watching Dean as his big brother busied himself with making a cup of tea for Y/N. Dean had called a friend of Y/N's on the way over, and they were waiting for Karen to arrive.

Once a mug of raspberry tea resting between Y/N's hands, Sam heard a knock on the back door to the store. He got up and opened the door to reveal who he assumed to be Karen.

"Hey, I'm Karen," said the young woman, all strawberry blonde, and dressed in a no nonsense combo of jeans and band t-shirt.

"Sam," Sam replied, stepping away from the door, "she's in the kitchen."

"Right." Karen gave Sam a concerned smile and walked past Sam.

Closing the door, Sam finally noticed the store's store room and the shelves, draws and cupboards that must have been stuffed with magic and potion supplies of all kinds. Rather than head back to the kitchen, Sam found his way into the study instead and turned on a lamp. He saw the Key of Solomon open on the desk and beside it the Magical Treatise of Solomon, sitting down, he began to flip through the Key of Solomon, out of habit and the need for something to do more than any actual thirst for information. He'd already memorised important parts of the text.

He heard Dean approaching and put the huge tome down.

"Karen's helping her get cleaned up," Dean stated, sitting on the edge of the desk. Sam didn't look at his big brother, Dean picked up the Key of Solomon and started flicking through from where Sam had left off.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Dean clearly couldn't take the silence any longer. "Shit, Sam, say something."

Getting up from his seat, Sam began walking around the study, pacing. He felt so bad.

"What do I say, Dean?"

Dean got up from the desk and stood in front of Sam, grabbing onto his brother. Sam didn't pull away from Dean's grip. "You tell me what's been running around in your head for the past hour. You tell me why you freaked when we found Y/N."

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, Dean, but I've been finding it kind of hard to share with you of late."

"I deserve that... but you can't keep this one to yourself."

Sam inhaled deeply. "It felt like it was my fault. That it was my fault that I wasn't there to... save her." For the first time in an age, flashes of what happened to Jess entered Sam's mind and he had to fight back tears.

"And," Sam continued, "when I smelt the blood on her... I couldn't... It was dangerous for me."

"Shit," Dean uttered. "It still-"

"Still has a draw? Of course it does, Dean. You never stop being an addict."

They stood in silence.

"Okay," Dean finally said, "you've got problems, issues. We've all got them, some of us... have caused them. But, Sam, unless we stick together, unless we help each other... We've got nothing.

"So," Dean continued, "you're going to talk to Y/N once Karen has finished helping her out. And then we'll take it from there. Baby steps. Deal?"

Sam looked into Dean's face. Saw the honest concern on his brother's face.

"Deal."


	7. Put me back together

Karen leads you up the stairs, to the bathroom. It's all blue and white tiles. Simple fixtures. Leaving you sat on the edge of the tub, Karen quickly goes and gets some towels and a black bag before returning to you. You do nothing, allowing Karen to fuss over you. The motions feel all too familiar - similar to how Karen had helped you when you'd found your grandfather's body. You'd been a mess then too, after the cops had finished interviewing you. But Karen knew there would be no police this time, understood, and that's why she'd been your friend since before you started middle school, and how she knew what you were.

"Shower or bath?" Karen asks you.

"Shower, please."

Karen pulls the curtain across the tub and gets the shower going. "Okay, let's get these clothes off."

With little fuss, Karen helps you out of your clothes, putting each item in the black bag, ignoring the chain and the stone. Then she notices the new tattoo. "Nice ink."

"Um, thanks."

Karen tests the shower's temperature. "Okay, let's get you in."

Carefully, you ease yourself into the shower and Karen goes and sits on the toilet lid. The water feels good against your skin.

"Got everything you need?" Karen calls through the sound of the water that's now buffering your body.

"Yes, thanks."

You let the water wash over you. Deciding not to dwell on what has happened to you in the last few hours, setting that part aside for now. 'I'll talk soon,' you think to yourself. Then you start gargling with water from the shower and realise that you really, really need to brush your teeth.

"Karen," you call over the water, "can you get me my toothbrush and toothpaste, please?"

"Sure."

A moment later, both appear just inside the shower curtain. "Thanks," you say, taking them from Karen's outstretched hand. Briefly you think about the way Sam reacted to finding you, but you try not to worry.

*

The bathroom is filled with steam when you finally turn the shower off and pull the curtain back. Karen passes you some towels. Wrapping your hair up, you start drying off your body, Karen respectfully turning away from you.

"So, Sam and Dean," Karen says suddenly. You can tell she's been dying to talk about them.

Your heart flips slightly at the mention of Sam's name.

"Is there something there?"

You consider your answer carefully.

"I'm not sure," you answer.

"Y/N, I don't know what's been going on with you since your grandfather's funeral. And that's fine with me. I just want you to be happy. So believe me, when I tell you: there's something there."

"Come on..." you start, thinking back to the cherub feather they guys were exposed to.

"Hey, those two came looking for you. And Sam, he looked devastated when he let me in.You two need to talk once were done up here... 'Course it doesn't have to be about today or happen today. But you should definitely talk."

*

Dried off, your wet hair tied up in a loose bun, you get dressed, pulling a fresh pair of green khakis and a fresh, blue v-neck top over your clean bra and panties. You can hear Karen downstairs, her words obscured, but pretty sure that she's talking with Dean. Out of habit you walk over to the mirror beside your wardrobe and look at the reflection there. There's much that you don't recognise as you yet: the necklace trailing down in your cleavage; your new tattoo and the small creases beside your eyes.

Slipping on some pumps, you open your bedroom door and head on down stairs. As you approach the kitchen, you hear Karen stop talking. Entering, Dean and Karen stand up.

"I'm just going with Dean to get some food," says Karen.

"Um, yeah," Dean says.

"Sam's in the study," Karen adds.

 Watching the pair stalk out through the back door, you wonder if Sam wants to see you. As the back door closes you inhale deeply and head towards the study. You can smell him before you go inside, a mix of books, spinach, musk and... need.

"Hey," you say to Sam, as he pours over one of the many alchemy books that normally lives on the shelves.

"Oh," Sam looks up from the book, a nervous expression on his face. "Hey."

You pull a chair from a corner of the room to beside the desk, sitting across from Sam. You sit like this for a while, nervously looking away from each other.

Finally, you decide to start the conversation and not mess about. "Why did you guys come after me?"

You watch Sam as he looks anywhere but at you.

"I thought I'd released you from the effects of the cherub feather," you say into the silence.

Silence.

Sam looks up and into your eyes. "Y/N, I had already fallen for you."

"Oh..." you respond, the weight of what Sam has just said weighing down on you.

"You've got a nice collection of lore, here," Sam states, simply, looking away, waving his hands at the the shelves that surround you. "How'd you get your new tattoo to stay?"

"Mixed the ink with elixir."

"Oh..." Sam nods his head.

"We're not just here to talk 'shop' right?"

Sam looks back to you once more. "Do you want to talk about today?"

You inhale deeply, your heart beginning to beat faster. "I'm not sure. I don't want things to get worse."

Looking deeply into Sam's eyes, you don't notice his hand snake out towards yours, but you let him hold your hand when he touches it. "Y/N, I'm not going to judge you."


	8. Tea

The study was a well maintained treasure trove of information. Nowhere near the size of the library that the Men of Letters had amassed, but it held a few tomes that Sam was pretty sure were not back at the bunker. He didn't want to be distant with Y/N, but it had been a tough day, especially for Y/N. And there was so much, and so little between them.

"Y/N, I'm not going to judge you," Sam repeated. "At the same time, if you don't want to talk, then we don't have to. But you need to know that I have feelings for you and that I haven't felt this way in a long time."

"You're sure?" Y/N asked, her voice hesitant.

"Yes."

Y/N's eyes kept blinking nervously. Sam didn't say anything, trying to give Y/N the space she needed. Finally, Y/N began to talk.

"It... it was horrible. I wanted to die, but I couldn't. After biting off its tongue, I got away, but I couldn't get past it and out...

"And I just didn't know what to do. And..." Sam gripped Y/N's hand tighter as tears began to flow down her face.

"I had to bite off its nose off too before I could get away safely. I- I..."

Sam was up and around the desk, kneeling down beside Y/N, and held out his arms. Y/N nodded and Sam drew her into a huge hug.

"Sssssh, sssssh, you're safe now," Sam soothed. "Do you need me to do anything for you?"

"Can I have more tea?"

Sam nodded and headed into the kitchen. Finding a spare teapot, Sam went through the process of heating the pot, putting in the raspberry tea and then letting it brew before returning to the study with it two cups and saucers. Placing it down beside Y/N he smiled at her and his heart beat a little faster when she smiled back.

*

Once Y/N had drunk some tea, Sam had finally talked properly with her.

"Why did you get Dean to look after me once you found me?" Y/N had asked.

It took Sam a moment to consider what he should say. He wanted Y/N to know everything there was to know about him, but to admit to her that he had a problem like this was a pretty big thing to do. He sipped his tea for something to do while trying to think of how to reply, before finally saying:

"I'm not that normal."

"Well, obviously not, Sam," Y'N replied, giving Sam a cheeky smile.

"Okay, maybe that's an understatement in present company but - I've been through a lot... I've got a thing about demon blood... And I've been to hell - twice. When I was a baby..."

Sam told Y/N about his mother, about Jess, about the whole crazy mess that had led to them meeting in the motel. Everything. Every painful, excruciating detail. How people had a habit of dying around him. How he'd almost caused the apocalypse a few times and had to clean things up. He wanted Y/N to realise that everyone fucks up. And that she didn't need to be alone. Sam was grateful how Y/N didn't look away from him once, or blanch or stand up and say that he'd told her enough.

And then Y/N talked about how she'd become an alchemist, how her grandfather had trained her for years and then his brutal death from a werewolf.

"Is the werewolf still alive?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"You've never tried killing it?"

"It might be possible to cure it."

"I've never found a cure that works," Sam stated.

"I made a Philosopher's Stone. That's meant to be pretty impossible. So, I think it's possible."

Sam didn't push the matter further. Instead, Y/N talked about creating the stone, which eventually led to Sam asking:

"Wait, the stone contains a part of you?"

Y/N blushed. "You have to put a bit of yourself into it. I had to... break off a tiny piece of my soul to make it."

"That's like taking out a rod from a nuclear reactor and cramming it into a test tube," Sam said to himself more than Y/N. But he wasn't going to criticise her, just like he wasn't going to say anything about her making a deal with Crowley.

"Sam?" The tone in Y/N's voice had changed slightly.

"Mhhmm?"

"Do you still think about Jess?"

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, before delivering an honest answer. "Yes, some times more than others."

*

It wasn't until it was two in the morning that Sam realised a) it was two in the morning b) he was hungry and c) Dean and Karen hadn't returned.

"You shouldn't worry about Dean and Karen," Y/N told Sam when he pointed these things out. "Karen and Dean are probably passed out under a table somewhere in town. Karen likes to do that."

Sam didn't want to tell Y/N that the pair had probably found somewhere to get to know each other, but as if reading his mind, Y/N added, "Dean will have found out tonight that he isn't Karen's type, trust me." Sam couldn't help but smile at that.

Getting up from his chair, Sam stretched. "You, uh, got anything to eat?"

*

At some point, sat on the kitchen floor, while Sam and Y/N mined their way through a gallon of double choc chip, some of the ice cream had fallen between Y/N's breasts. Sam wanted so bad to help Y/N out, but he needed to be sure.

"May I?" He asked as they both looked at Y/N's chest.

Y/N gave Sam a penetrating gaze, before finally replying, "Yes."

Sam leaned in, hovering for a moment above Y/N's chest, before finally bringing his tongue to bear on the chocolate goodness.

"Mmmmmnnh," Y/N groaned.

Sam brought his face up to Y/N and began to kiss her. Just on her lips and then more passionately at first, quickly they found each other's tongues and Y/N started stroking Sam's long hair. It didn't have to go any further, Sam knew that, but the contact felt good and the way that Y/N responded to his tongue and didn't want to let go of him - it let him know that they had a chance.

Y/N pulled away from their kisses and nuzzled up to Sam, breathing in the scent of his hair. Sam sighed with content at the closeness, glad that he could be this close with Y/N.

"Sam?" Y/N asked, her voice humming against Sam's chest.

"Yes?"

"Can I come back to the bunker?"

Looking down at Y/N, Sam stroked her face so that she would look up at him. "Yes, a thousand times yes," Sam answered.


	9. A moment of calm

At some point in the very early hours of the morning, you drag Sam upstairs. It's not through some desire to feel normal, you just want to feel close to him. Sam objects, like a gentleman, but you insist and he eagerly trots after you, up to your room and the double bed within. Kissing your way past the threshold, you begin to pull at each other's clothes, discarding items with each step towards the bed.

Falling into Sam's arms as you land on the bed, you wrap your legs around him as you continue to explore each other's mouths. You rock your hips into Sam, grinding on his thigh, slowly working yourself up. With each breath you inhale the scent of books, spinach and musk - Sam's scent is like catnip to you.

Sam's right hand wanders down your back and reaches your left cheek. He begins to gently massage it.

"Mmmmmmmmnnh," you groan into Sam's mouth. Carefully, you put your left hand between the two of you and begin to pull on Sam's cock, starting slower at first and then building up speed. Pre-cum slicks your hand and his head, only adding to Sam's sensitivity.

"Nnnnmmmmmmm," Sam groans into your mouth.

Before he can cum, Sam removes his hand from your butt and tilts you flat on to the bed. Moving his cock out of your reach, Sam's right hand goes down to your folds and he begins to gently massage your clit, moistening it with the juices starting to flow from you vagina.

Pulling away from your fervent kissing, Sam asks, "Do you want me inside you?"

You think carefully for a moment, as Sam continues to play with you before replying, "Yes."

Sam pulls his right hand away from you and gently eases your legs apart. It takes a moment, but then you feel Sam pushing his throbbing cock inside you, the heat in your core intensifying. Sam gently pumps into you, kissing you all over your breasts and stomach.

He keeps his pace steady for what seems an age, but you feel an orgasm building in you.

"Please," you say, guiding one of Sam's hands down to your clit and he gets the message. Sam begins to play with your clit while his hips retain their rhythm and then-

"MMMMnnnnnnUHHHHnnnnUhhhh!" Your walls clench and your legs slightly spasm as you ride out the orgasm rocking through your body.

But Sam isn't done yet. You look into his eyes and understand that he wants you to cum at least one more. He grabs your legs and lifts your hips slightly, so that he can angle his cock downwards, into you. Your wetness makes the change of position easy and as the head of Sam's cock presses down into you in all the right ways.

"I love you, Y/N," Sam cries, sounding like he's close.

"I love you, Sam."

Your walls throb and then you reach the edge and your gone, cumming fast and hard, as Sam pours himself into you. You groan and cry together.

Sam gently puts your legs down and pulls out. You hold your arms open, and Sam crawls in beside you, your height differences meaning that Sam's feet dangle out over the end of the bed as you pull a blanket around the two of you.

For the first time in years, you feel bliss.

*

It's almost seven in the morning when you hear your phone vibrate from some location on your bedroom floor. Gently crawling away from Sam, you hunt through discarded clothing until you find it. There's no message from Karen, but instead you see a text from Crowley.

Staring at the screen, you begin to wonder how far Sam would go to help you, as the address for your grandfather's murderer burns its way into your memory.


End file.
